The Bear and The Other Queen
by unleashed her imagination
Summary: Jorah is sent on a mission by Daenerys to King's Landing. A dangerous job, but Jorah doesn't mind. He'd do anything for her.


King's Landing was sunbathing when Jorah arrived to the Mud Gates, never as confused as he was today. He travelled all the way from Mereen with a sole purpuse, an order from Daenerys. It was as clear as a daylight yet as dangerous as wandering beyond The Wall. She even gave him a dagger, made in the shape of a dragon's tail they found in one of the rich houses in the city.

_»Take it, Jorah. Take it, pierce her heart, look into her eyes and tell me what you saw.«_

Jorah covered his head and entered the city with a group of merchants from the Free Cities. He tried to ignore the possibility that one of those men is the merchant who stole his Lynesse. But he swore to himself she's passé. And a past, she remained.

The streets were full of traders and buyers, the residents of the capital, who filled the city with the noises, from screams to conversation, from the sound of their boots to the horse's hooves. A casual lovely sunny day in King's Landing. Jorah stole an apple on the way and bit right in. The sweet juicy meet tasted ever so good. After months on the road with minimum food and water, some sorts of fruit became a luxury for an exiled knight. When apple juice ran down his chin, Jorah closed his eyes. It felt almost like reaching the high point in sex. He imagined Daenerys' juices running down his chin just a month ago, before she sent him for the job...

Brief smile left his face as soon as he remembered he's on the enemy's land. There was no time for such sweet memories to fill his mind. He noticed two guards from the City Watch approaching in his direction. He hid in a side alley near a brothel. He hated that in the capital. Every little street was filled with brothels and inns that offered such services for all the traders and knights and rich lords visiting King's Landing. Every inn had at least a whore or two to offer men. Some innkeepers even offered their own daughters. Jorah's memory was once again returned to the past. To Bear Island when he was the only male besides his father in the whole House Mormont, and was given a privilege to bed every fisherman's daughter he wanted. Even the married ones. Lord Mormont wanted his son to be ready when married. Jorah found that appalling. He believed sex should be something sacred, done between two people that love each other, not just an act of a high born man submissing a young woman for his pleasure. Yet he still bed a couple of them...

The guards went pass him, not even noticing a man covered in a back alley. Not that that wasn't common in such cities but the guards usually checked every suspicious man, woman or child found in the city. Jorah moved on closer to the Red Keep. The security got tighter with every ten yards, harder for Jorah to avoid. He had a couple of things with him so he was able to pretend he was himself a merchant, selling swords. Daenerys had a smith made a dozen swords and some daggers, all of them a fine piece of work, so Jorah would easily be taken for a foreign trader.

»And what is that buckled on your waist?« asked the guard, inspecting Jorah's own sword.

»Protection, my good man,« answered Jorah, putting a fake smile on his face, as best as he could. »I travelled through dangerous lands, my small caravan got attacked.« He tapped the hilt. »This belongs to one of my sellswords.« The guard nodded in respond.

»So, you want to sell these swords to His Grace?«

»I am anxious to present these to him. If he should like them, I can provide many and more.« The guard looked at him one more time.

»Let him in.«

Jorah came the last to the Throne Room where Tommen held his court. Anyone that had any business to discuss with the king, was to come forward and speak in front of everyone. Matters concerning safety and security came first, then anything the high born lords and ladies needed to talk, after that the common people came in the room, along with Jorah and his swords. He was the last one to come forward.

»Your grace,« he said and bowed low. »I come from the city of Mereen to offer you a good price for these swords. I can make more of them soon if...«

»Pardon me, but we do have our own sword makers.« Cersei approached him. »You sound nothing like a foreigner.« Jorah swallowed hard.

»I'm bastard born, your Grace. I fled the North and got to the Free Cities until I finally stopped in Mereen. I became wealthy enough to afford to travel back to Westeros and saw the appalling quality of your knight's swords. So I decided to stay and offer you some of my own.« He bowed again to her.

»Mereen, you say? Isn't that the city ruled by Daenerys Targaryen?«

»It is, Your Grace.« Cersei smiled. An evil smile she mastered in these years looked real now, and honest, but Jorah new her sort.

»And tell me, my good man, how is she as a queen?«

»Just, and generous, your Grace.« It was all Jorah could say without sounding like he's in love with Daenerys. Cersei kept looking at him for a few moments.

»I would enjoy a longer conversation with you. The court will buy the swords you brought. If we should be pleased, I am sure we can reach you.« She looked at the other members of the council. »My king, I think there's no one else. May we conclude this session?« Tommen nodded and called it a day.

Jorah followed Cersei in her quarters. _Take it, Jorah. Take it, pierce her heart, look into her eyes and tell me what you saw._ Daenerys' words resonated in his head like a dream. Unlike most of the time, Jorah had no plan, no trust in his abilities, and no real chances to fulfill his Khaleesi's wish. He knew there will be little time to think of some lies of Mereen when Cersei's piercing eyes keep staring at him, noticing the beads of sweat running down his face.

She showed him to a chair near her desk while she occupied the one oposite. »So, may I learn your name first?«

Jorah hesitated for a second. »Rick, your Grace. Short for Rickon.«

She smiled again. »You are from the North, aren't you? Well, I wanted to ask you a question or two about Mereen. I would love to learn how is our dear Targaryen girl.«

»Your Grace, I do not have the privilege of seeing Daenerys Targaryen every day...«

»Then as far as you know, Rick.« He bowed.

»Queen Daenerys is very just, your Grace. There have not been many in Mereen like her. Or in fact, anywhere in the Free Cities. She freed the slaves, Your Grace.« Jorah tried to be precise but sounding like a low born without any education at all. It was a bit difficult for a man of his intelligence and wisdom but he did his best. Cersei smiled politely.

»She freed the slaves? How very honorable.« She stood up, followed by Jorah. She got closer to him, running her hand down his chest. »How close are you with Daenerys?«

Jorah froze. Smiths are usually nobodies for a queen, or in fact, for any high born man or woman. What does Cersei mean by »close«?

»Well, Your Grace, Queen Daenerys comes for a visit once a year to every merchant, smith, and innkeeper, and others. She shows the- us, support.« He smiled politely, bowing once more. He felt her hand lowering to his kilt. Her warm hand rested where Daenerys' had a month ago, before she undid his kilt and breeches, taking out his other sword...

»And you make Valyrian steel as well, Rick?«

Jorah needed a moment to concentrate. »I...not me personally, but I have a friend who does it for me, if anyone would request.« Cersei's hand grabbed his manhood through the fabrics. Jorah made a silent noise and a quick breath. »Your Grace, I do not understand...«

She put his free hand up, silencing him. Her short laugh filled the room. »I have swords made of steel that knights use for battle, and have no need of those. I do not, however, posess the other swords, worthy of notice. Unlike you, Rick...« His breathing became a bit desperate as her hand kept massaging him. He felt how he was becoming harder and in a few moments, the buldge on his kilt was more than visible. Jorah didn't plan this.

»Your Grace, I...«

»I wish you would call me »my queen«, Rick. I will be yours soon, in a way.« She undid his kilt and breeches, just like Daenerys. Jorah tried not to think of her as well. Having one beautiful queen undressing you while having the other one in your head, will not help the hardness that just formed. When Cersei pulled down the breeches, it sprang out, wanted to be taken care of. She remained on her knees, looking at the wonder in front of her. When she held it in her hands, Jorah moaned. She smiled and stood up.

»You are not used to this, I gather?« Jorah swallowed as she kept looked at him but her hands remained on his manhood, slowly moving up and down on his length.

»No, my queen,« he answered. Cersei's face moved closer and she kissed him, gently at first but when she let his tongue in her mouth, the reservation was gone. Jorah couldn't control himself. It's been so long since he had a woman that the feeling of soft hands on his erection felt almost new. She led him to the wall near her writing desk and decided to introduce him to another type of pleasure. Her mouth took the job and Jorah's loud moan filled the room. He was suddenly glad of the cold stone wall to lean on. The warmth and all the skills her tongue knew made him shiver in pleasure. He could come right there but he remembered the mission.

»My queen...I...I feel I should please you...before I'm...done.« Cersei stopped and stood up. She pulled the laces on her dress, letting it slip off her shoulders, uncovering her lovely breasts. They changed positions so her back was now the one leaning on the wall. She lifted up her leg, positioning it on the chair next to the desk.

»Please me.« He guided himself into her, surprised by the tightness of her womanhood. He needed a moment to prevent himself from spilling his seed immediately, and tried to push his entire legth into her. Cersei bit her lip. Jaime was gifted, too, but not like that. It felt like it will never end. When he finally reached the end, she let out a loud moan, pressing him closer to her to feel him better. She felt every thrust he made.

»I must...tell...ugh...tell you something...my queen.« _He wants to talk,_ thought Cersei.

»Now?«

Jorah kept thrusting in her, but slower than before so he could speak. »I never loved anyone more...my queen.« Thrust. »I am not called Rick.« Thrust.

Cersei held his cheeks. »It doesn't matter what your name is...just...just keep going.«

Jorah's tongue wandered across her breasts, teasing her nipples. His right hand moved from her hip to his chest strap where he stored the dagger. _Take it, Jorah. Take it, pierce her heart, look into her eyes and tell me what you saw. _She felt the cold of the blade on her neck.

»I am ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island.« Thrust. »I was sent here by Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen.« A stronger thrust, quickly followed by another one. »To kill you.« He removed his cock out of her, his dagger remained on her neck. »But I don't want to. Turn around.« He spanked her before entering her again. He kept the dagger in his right hand, pounding her mercilessly. »I. Want. To. Finish. This. First.« All the anger he kept on Lynesse, and Daenerys for sending him away, bursted out of him now. He respected strong fierce women, but respect ended if she used his kindness against him. When he finished on her firm arse, reddened with intense spanking, his expression was ice cold.

Cersei turned around. »So you won't obey your queen?«

He smiled. »Who said anything about that?«

When he left the room, Cersei was drowning in her own blood.


End file.
